She is like a red, thorn-stricken rose,
A beauty prized inside my garden,
Her body, like the petals, gracefully flows,
Movement preventing the coldest heart to harden.

I could be undoubtfully mistaken,
For my eyes play tricks, like mischievous young boys,
Making it rather difficult to awaken from a dream,
Or escape from a well planned ploy.

Only time will tell us, if it is meant to be,
Fate will bring my real soulmate, at a moment of overwhelming darkness,
The strong waves are beating against the shore, and back out to sea,
Until I meet perfection, wearing a white linen dress.

However, don't let the oppourtunity to find her pass you by,
Especially when it presents itself in the blue sky.

Why must judgement dominate us today,
Accusations fly like fishing rod lines,
In the sea of words that these people say,
Corrupting the pleasant thoughts of young minds.

Prejudiced beliefs linger like rainclouds,
Raining on opinions of you and I,
Cries of hate ring through my ears from these crowds,
Almost like thunder's constructed war cry.

Does the phrase, ''love thy neighbour'' mean nothing,
To those faces that roam across this earth,
It could be a compromise or something,
For, If we learned love, it would bring rebirth.

Jealousy will dominate in our heart,
Until we learn to love, or at least start.

Hello,
My favourite hello,
My friend,
It feels like we haven't talked in ages,
I hope you're well,
I brought you flowers,
Tulips, your favourite,
The same shade of purple you wore that night,
The night that changed my life,
You seem peaceful,
With that never-ending smile,
I can still hear the sound of your laughter,
Ringing in my ears,
The sweetest sound,
From you, beautiful,
Did you miss me?
I see this distant, faraway look in your eyes,
I don't like it,
I wish your eyes would smile,
Just for me,
I can't help but to feel angry,
Perhaps its just my emotions,
Or maybe the reality of the situation,
Hasn't struck me, yet,
I'm sorry,
Let me wipe away that tear,
It seems to have fallen from my face,
And onto your own,
I understand you haven't spoken,
The silence speaks for us,
Though, this visit is painful,
I'm glad you do not feel pain,
I hope you know,
You've never left,
You're still here,
Lighting up my world,
With every thought and every song,
This is so difficult, but,
Beautiful,
I want you to know,
You'll always be,
My friend,
My hardest goodbye,
Goodbye.

Tea is my consolation,
From anxiety and fears that strike
Like venomous slithering snakes,
Who have missions to poison my resolve.

The most recent attack occurred,
During the late evening,
With their voices in my head shrieking and lashing,
Their troublesome words coiling around my air supply.

I dashed to the cupboard panicked,
To ensue Tea’s warm embrace,
And waited for the kettle to boil,
While tears trickled wordlessly down my face.

Tea greeted me warmly that night,
With a pleasant aroma of spices swirling up my nose,
And became the only thing I wanted;
A comforting liquid cascading down my throat.

I drank my blend of love in silence,
While my protector drew its steadfast sword,
And lashed those demons and the sorrows,
Into the dismal despair from whence they came.

Not long after the battle,
My silent friend with the warmth of a thousand suns crooned,
And watched as I fell soundlessly asleep,
Until the renewal of the afternoon.

We keep getting hurt,

You and I ,

      I and We,

   We and You,

You and me,

Constant fighting,
These sparks aren't igniting,
Those logs aren't burning,
Neither of the flames yearning.

    So read this note,

From Me to You,

Whose hand is holding the lighter underwater?

       Hold this note,
And don't respond or quote,
Unless you plan to write,
Words that might,

Bring

    *You to Me.

There is an abundance of knowledge
That I’ve grown to know about life,
Such as how some green teas,
Brew at a temperature of one hundred and fifty degrees,
Or the way that hues of paint,
Swirl upon a canvas to appear delicate and quaint.
And lastly how my friendships are like little lights,
Illuminating the darkest corners of my life, bright,

And though my brain holds knowledge of,
All that I have mentioned above,
That that I knew not outweighs that of which I do,
Such as the way I feel about you,
Or how the hours spent with you feel so few,
And how every moment spent brings something wonderful and new,

I never knew.
I never knew love,

That my heart could race so fast,
To the melody of the piano instrumentals we listened to last,
Or that I would love the way your fingers run through my hair,
Or how you hold my hand and kiss my fingers tenderly with care,

I did not know.
I did not know love,

That the aroma of Amazni tea
Would bring countless thoughts of you and me,
And that butterflies to my surprise,
Would flutter within every time I’m gazing in your eyes,

Perhaps it is the way you say the word Chicago,
Or you have an appreciation for flakes of snow,
Maybe it’s the way you draw invisible lines on my skin,
I hope you know that this feeling makes me feel beautiful within,

And though I know of this now,
I did not know,
I did not know love,

That I had been waiting twenty five days shy of seven thousand-three hundred and seventy four,
To meet the one who would make me feel something I’ve never felt before.
He who understands of my fears,
And is comforting when I’m at the point of tears,
Maybe it is his entrepreneur set mind,
Or the way our fingers are entwined,
Maybe it is the way we write our own poetry with our mouths,
Or the way we are both not from the South.

It could be any of these,
But I do know that,
I do know love that,

I’ve learned much during these thirty one days,
And as I waltz and frolic through this endless maze,
The only thought I have of which is meaningful,
(Is this)
*“I did not know that love could be this beautiful.“

Ever hate it,
When people,
Fall in love,
With the wrong,
Person.

Most are,
So blinded,
By pointless,
Visions that won't,
Last.

They push,
Themselves to,
Believe that,
Everything is so,
Perfect.

When really,
Everything is,
Crumbling apart,
In their fragile,
Hands.

Who do,
They turn to?
Their best friend,
That obviously loves,
Them.

Ever hate it,
When people fall,
In love and,
Cling to a,
Person.

Like a sticky,
Glue, the residue,
Tries to cling,
And make its,
Mark.

Like a ***,
Pushed to the,
Back burner their,
Friend's heart just,
Waits.

For their is,
Nothing else one,
Other can do,
When they love,
Another.

Ever hate it,
When people,
Fall in love,
With the wrong,
Person.

I've been sitting here thinking,
With my head in the clouds,
Memories floating by,
Ones without the droplets of doubt.

They seem to flood down my face,
Those tiny droplets,
Staining the visions of us,
Dancing our lives away.

They seemed to be perfect,
Those tiny visions,
Now, much like a sunset in the distance,
That's fading into darkness.

That seems to be the bittersweet ending,
The sunset fading,
Though there will always be other sunsets,
I wanted this one to never fade.

Recollecting the recent years past.
After the unwritten fulfilled;
I still believe that I was a phoenix.
Even then.

Perhaps one not filled with imperishable flame,
For some beautiful creatures have greeted darkness,
Darkness that haunts the capable slain,
Into a horror far from bliss.

I know this figure was far from divine bliss,
For when eyes gazed upon the dusky feathers from years past,
The blackened twilight feathers were difficult to dismiss,
A clustered reminder of what these wings flew from, fast.

Though of late, those tufts of feathers have begun to transform.
Molting away this figure, marred with memories scarred,
Unveiling inner embers with lavish crimson and gold flame; a reform.
But why stop with wisps of the past merely charred?

For the time has now arrived to greet gracious death with a destructive goodbye,
An opportunity for this phoenix to endure a radiant rebirth,
Now, time is nigh;
For this phoenix to rise from the ashes of her own self worth.

Copyright March 3, 2013.

I wish I could show him that,
Between the cracks of my bones,
Flowers are sprouting,
Inside the garden of sadness I once had.

Seven months have passed since I last visited,
What was once a home of loneliness and anguish,
For the last, huddled was I, on a rusting bench,
Absentmindedly watching salty droplets cascade to the ground.

With cheeks red and face damp,
My attention finally turned to the weeds blossoming in my oasis,
And though its weeds were beautiful to gaze upon at the time,
I realized that a garden without roses is like an ocean without fish,
                    Or a galaxy without stars,
            Or a sky without clouds,
   Or a heart without love,

And for that reason I deserted the deserted,
To find you.

Regardless of my infrequent visits,
To the garden between the crevices of my bones,
Loyal friends have visited in my absence,
To pluck away the weeds I used to stare at so lovingly,
                        And shower the land with seeds,
                 The ocean with fish,
            The galaxy with stars,
    The sky with clouds,
And my heart with love.

Though the scene brings tears to my eyes,
To gaze upon all that has changed,
I wish I could show him that,
Between the cracks of my bones,
Flowers are sprouting,
Inside the garden of sadness I once had.

(H.G.)

Standing at the station,
Midnight on the clock,
Ticks Ticking, Heart racing,
Fingers dialing…
Voicemail.
Again and again I try to no avail.
Why do you not answer?
Why do you leave me in the dark to wonder?

If you thought of me that little.

A horn blaring in the distance,
Breaking me from my trance,
A noise getting closer and closer with every tick on the clock.
My fingers are trembling,
Heart pounding,
Though you wouldn’t know,

That my train is almost here.

The train pulls into the station,
Blowing puffs of cool white smoke,
A train unlike any other,
One not meant for the journey of another,
No, it is simply for me.
My hopes and dreams idle in the passenger seats,
Waiting for me.
The conductor is beckoning for me to board,
Yet,

I freeze in my tracks.

I am unsure what to do.
This is a journey not destined for two,
Time is ticking on that ticking clock,

Do I board or should I make one final call?

These fingers dial numbered buttons one last time,
Heart thudding inside my chest,
I know that this is the final time,
But do you?
I find myself wanting to hear the sound of your voice.

Voicemail.

I gather my things and board this magnificent train.
I will never know why you did not answer,
Why you left me in the dark to wonder.
But I will know this,
It was time that I boarded my own

*Train.

Laying in my bed I weep,
Scared of a new day to come,
Revealing one's feelings; begging for a soul to keep,
I wonder where the difficulties have suddenly sprouted from.

Positive of what I feel,
Yet, afraid of the words you will say,
Love, a broken heart is hard to heal,
You have so much power to destroy me either which-way.

Never felt this way before,
Butterflies dancing amongst the thoughts of you,
Uncertainty weighs my final decision poor,
But, I can't help if by some chance, you feel what I feel too.

What if you declare yes,
Tears streaming; saying you've felt this way all along,
Oh, how have I wandered into this frustrating mess,
Holding back from our perfect love song.

What would happen if my expectations fall short,
Alienating the person who would mean the most,
My heart would feel like a distant ship leaving the port,
Empty and hollow, like a quivering ghost.

Love, I can't help but to wonder what I wonder,
I want to escape from this silly wrath,
However, until I wake from the depths of my internal slumber,
We will each walk along our own seperate path.

Darling dearest,

I know troublesome times lie ahead,
But never neglect yourself.

Beloved, your beauty radiates the room,
Like the sun does the sky,
The stars do the night,
And your smile does your eye.

Never neglect yourself or fail to realize just how loved you are.
I know troublesome times are upon you set at an overwhelming tempo,
But soon the tempo will slow,
And you will know what I know.

My darling dearest.

Copyright March 18, 2013

Do you wish you could go back into time,
Relive the past lurking in makeshift mind,
No longer silenced like a speechless mime,
Flashbacks and reality intertwined,

Dance in the shining sun with an old friend,
Or perhaps, relive faded days of youth,
Some would prevent a feud or at least mend,
While others would still chip or lose a tooth,

I however, would do something from heart,
Bring back the dead from a dark peaceful grave,
Embrace the people I love with hugs of art,
Then say goodbye to visions of the brave,

Reality brings us to consciousness,
Until time becomes forever timeless.

You run back to a dark rose,
Adorned with brown thorns and glossy petals,
Your coarse hands try to pick the delicate flower,
Only to watch blood flow from your fingertips,

Letting her ***** and permanently scar your skin,
The damage leaves more than just an imprint on your body,
It allows your soul to become numb,
To the world and all the other beautiful flowers,

Especially the sunflower,
Blossoming right behind you,
Warm and bright,
Radiating happiness from its golden-stained petals,

Yet drooping, from the shadow your back casts,
Wilting a little more when you reach for the dark rose over and over again,
That sunflower perks up when you look at her,
Especially, when you touch it softly,

Even if you leave it tainted,
With traces of red droplets,
From running your scratched, bleeding and marked fingers,
Upon its smooth frail petals,

That sunflower waits patiently,
Never scorning nor, lashing,
Hopeful that one day,
You may pick her.

Crunching of crisp leaves beneath my feet,
Chilly breezes in this autumn air,
Arms criss-crossed to where arm and side meet,
An invisible force rustling my brown hair,

I think of those hazel eyes;
Flecks of the purest gold,
Shining like little stars or fireflies,
A harsh wind arrives before these thoughts can unfold,

Does this cold affect you too?
For me, it is a reminder of you.
A reminder of you.
Of you.

Dear darlin' dancing on my dreams with steel-toed shoes,

I love the tapping sound that your two feet emote.
But I do not like you dancing upon my dreams.

With love from,
the man whose  impression you have trampled.

Yesterday,
I thumbed through all the tabbed pages,
Of the anthology you suggested that I read.

With a petite pink pen held by my right hand,
I wrote those poems down,
One by one.

Then I folded them,
One by one,
Into little paper hearts,
And put them in a mason jar.

They are just scraps of loose-leaf,
Marked by my dainty handwriting,
And folded into ornate shapes.

But they were my favorite poems from the anthology,
And I wanted to be reminded of you and what you’ve done for me,
If ever I become lonely or discouraged.

Or even when I am at life’s content,
I can open the jar containing my paper hearts;
And read them one by one,
And be reminded of you and what you’ve done for me.

Copyright March 16, 2013.

A smile stretches across your face,
White teeth gleaming,
Brighter than any star,
But not brighter than heaven,
For that would be pure evil.

Copyright Feb, 2011.

Have you noticed,
That when we gaze at each other,
We stare a second longer?
I have.

Have you noticed,
Your eyes get a little brighter,
When i'm looking into them?
I have.

Have you noticed,
We ****** back,
When our hands grazed the other day?
I have.

Have you noticed,
That big smile that stretches across your face,
Gleaming, when i see you?
I have.

Have you noticed,
That i'm there for you,
When she doesn't have a care in the world?
I have.

Have you noticed,
That you comforted me,
When he said unforgiveable things?
I have.

Have you noticed,
When we hugged we held on a little longer,
Through the pain and hurt?
I have.

I have noticed,
The signs that could be leading up to,
Us falling for each other,
Have you?

My tired eyes close,
To retreat to a sheltered mind,
Weary from the fighting,
A war of words.

This is what i never wanted,
To pick up my sword,
And stab you in the heart,
With my words.

All this time passed,
To be wasted upon bitterness,
For you have a narrow mind,
And I a narrow heart.

Have we been blind,
To walk the miles we have walked,
Spent the moments we have spent,
It wasn't wasted.

Wasn't in vain either,
Our lives intwined for a mere moment,
When it did it felt like magic,
Now that feeling is gone.

Replaced with the hollow emptiness of a warrior,
And a bitter spear my right hand clutches,
If I could replace this with your love once more,
I'd drop my weapon and take the final blow.

Writing
and drinking tea
tonight;
I am.
This feels
Zen.

Music flows through the air, like a soul,
Valued as a gift from our divine creator,
A perfect melody designed, to make one feel whole,
With a meaning, scribbled deep upon a scroll,
Swelling up to complete our inner core,
Music flows through the air, like a soul,
Filling up even the deepest dug hole,
Lyrics provide the answers one searches for,
A perfect melody designed to make one feel whole,
Higher and higher the notes tumble and roll,
Through the wind they will flutter and soar,
Music flows through the air, like a soul,
People craving a taste, like chips in a bowl,
Boom Boom Boom, the thunderous music will roar,
A perfect melody designed to make one feel whole,
For that is the artist's dream-weaved goal,
Open up your eyes to it, it is more than a bore,
Music flows through the air, like a soul,
A perfect melody designed to make one feel whole.